


The THRU and THRU Job

by Valawenel



Category: Leverage
Genre: Crime Fighting, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:07:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valawenel/pseuds/Valawenel
Summary: A simple surveillance on a Eco-Bio World Fair grows into something completely different.





	The THRU and THRU Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rorkes_Drift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rorkes_Drift/gifts).



> For Rorkes Drift <3
> 
> This isn't as good as I hoped it would be, but at least it's long and you'll have fun reading.  
> I can't access your prompts right now while writing this so I can't paste it here - but I choose one with Eliot always trusting Parker (and Hardison not so much).  
> Unfortunately this job went into a direction that obstructed my investigation of that prompt in full, but I'll continue to work on that in my future stories. So, this gift will be sorta gift that keeps giving, lol.

Secret Santa 2018 – The THRU and THRU Job

 

***

 

Today was supposed to be simply surveillance.

Eliot Spencer had planned to follow Ursula Stout throughout the Eco-Bio World Fair, keep an eye on her to see whom she would meet, and use that time to browse all the wondrous supplies for his own eco garden.

It was harder than he thought.

Nine huge domes, one in the middle and eight other branching out like petals around it swarmed with thousands of people. Each one was bigger than a football field, and he struggled to keep an eye on Ursula and her husband – and two of his own team members covering them from left and right. But no matter how many people blocked his view, he had Ursula in his crosshairs.

 What he didn’t predict was how damn distracted he would be. The numerous booths and bigger shops, scattered all around, at first were great for blending in and taking cover.

At first. Now he was having trouble focusing on Ursula, mesmerized by the intoxicating mixture of colors, smells, and light attacking his senses.

The domes were designed to let sunshine seep through them, diffusing the light into a comforting warmth, coloring everything in soft golden hue.

The shop he was currently observing from was an Epoxy resin exhibition. Shiny translucent walls with flowers, pine cones and ferns embedded in them were great to watch through, but boy, did they distract him.

“May I help you?”

He turned sideways, ungluing his nose from the wall - two inch thick, riddled with fully blossomed pale yellow roses. The epoxy preserved every petal in perfect detail. “No, thank you,” he said. “I’m just studying the details in these flowers. So…delicate.”

The young woman smiled and nodded, her attention already moving to another customer.

“So…delicate?” Another voice sang in his ear. His communication set, hidden by his wig, sounded Hardison’s voice in his ear, as if he stood behind him and not at the other end of the dome. “Are you aware you almost whispered that word? What are you watching, anyway?” The smile in Hardison’s voice was clear despite the background murmur of a crowd around him. “Eliot, do you copy?”

Eliot’s fingertips caressed the smooth, shiny surface, before he remembered he couldn’t leave fingerprints and used his sleeve to wipe them away. Hardison couldn’t see him. He moved three feet to the right, to another wall. Long fern leaves cascaded through epoxy like a waterfall, but from here he could see both Hardison and Ursula. She stood by a booth with small cages, while Hardison tried to blend into something that looked like orange and bluish-purple sheets, a hundred feet away from her.

Eliot glanced around to see if a person murmuring to the wall would attract any unwanted attention, but no one was near enough to notice. “Yeah, I’m here,” he spoke to the epoxy wall. “Epoxy resin exhibition. I see you both now. On your ten.”

Hardison turned his head toward him and nodded. “This booth I’m standing at is a perfect spot for total coverage of this dome we’re in. Wherever she moves I can see her from here, because of the way the booths form passages.”

Eliot could see only two kids at the counter behind Hardison, no grown-ups anywhere near. “Good. What’s that? A candy shop?”

“No. And I won’t tell you, at least not until we finish this job.” Both smile and challenge echoed through Hardison’s voice, but Eliot was in no mood for baits.

Yeah, he knew he should’ve done this alone.

Yet, inviting two more members of Leverage Inc. to join him had felt like a good idea in the beginning. Hardison had been sulky for days and Parker hadn’t left their HQ in almost a week, occupied with learning who-knows-what, with headphones on and lost to everything around her.

Mental state was not a trivial thing when it came to security and as an expert in that field – and the only one who knew anything about it – Eliot decided that pushing them a little might be good for them. He also needed to see them in action. All of them were still learning about each other, and though they had lived through some pretty intense shit together, there were still too many blank pages.

Then, there was a blending-in problem. Right now, he stood out. It was all Sophie’s fault.

He wore a dress and a makeup – because she had thought he needed to practice his up-coming drag queen role in this job. The dress was blue-green, definitely his colors, and his makeup smoothly accentuated his eyes. The raven black gothic wig was kinda weird but hell, he trusted Sophie. If she had said that black would go great with his eyes, who was he to argue?

The heels were something completely different. Today, because he had to walk, and walk fast, he ditched the heels and put his boots on. Ursula was a middle aged woman, and those creatures could stride damn fast.

Because of all that, he had to remain mostly unseen, hence letting Hardison and Parker tag along. The two of them could blend-in better and stay closer to Ursula. It also gave Eliot a good position to observe their performance. Hardison’s performance, to be precise. He said he needed her phone to get access to all the important info she must’ve had in it, and this time, he was the one who would get it. That too fast exchange from all sulky to all eager was something to study, too.

Eliot spared a few seconds eyeing those strange orange and purple things behind Hardison. It looked like big wooden barrels filled to the rim with something. If not candy, what? Fruit? Blueberries, perhaps? He couldn’t catch a clear view because of the people passing in front of it from all directions.

At least Ursula still stood by the cages.

She moved exceptionally slow through the booths, inching her way through the dome. Her husband dragged his feet behind her, while everybody else stormed around to see as much as they could, as fast as they could.

For now, Hardison hadn’t made any glaring mistakes. He was too static, yes, but always behind the larger groups of people, and engaged in conversation with sellers. Black jeans and dark green t-shirt didn’t catch anybody’s eye, and he held a light jacket to wear if needed. It was strange to see their IT-specialist without some gadget in his hands. No tablet, no phone. When he turned a little to talk with the two kids behind the counter, he put both hands in his pockets as if not sure what to do with them.

This little field trip would definitely do him good. At least he’d look at real colors, not at those on his screens.

Eliot glanced around one more time, checking on Ursula. “She’s clearly…” He stopped when his eye caught two men standing rigid, their heads not turning.

The crowd was fluid. People walked from booth to booth in zigzag, searching for something new, looking all around not wanting to miss something. People who stopped, like he and Hardison, chatted or drank beer and coffee and ate. Only those two men simply stood there watching, not paying any attention to the fair.

And these men didn’t look like two tired husbands or fathers who were taking a break.

He couldn’t be sure they watched Ursula, though they were turned in her direction. There was too much going on all around, and she was too far away to be certain.

Even worse, they were so close to Hardison they might even hear him speak into the coms.

“Hardison, walk slowly to that yellow booth with a mushroom-like roof, on your left, and speak with sellers. Don’t reply.”

A low grumble escaped Hardison. He didn’t move for a second, an expected and well-known reaction to any ‘don’t speak’ order, the worst torture of all. He would’ve spoken through his elbow if his mouth was wrapped with duct tape.

Eliot noticed his suddenly stiff posture when he finally moved to the next booth, but it wasn’t too glaring.

The two guys didn’t follow Hardison with their gazes, not even when a small group of Japanese tourists walked in front of them, completely hiding him from their sight.

Good. Whoever they were, they probably weren’t after Leverage Inc. Unless, of course, they were a part of a much bigger operation, and another team was hidden somewhere around, keeping tabs on them in turns.

The fact he didn’t notice anyone else didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Sometimes his paranoia was just that - paranoia. Mostly useful, always annoying.

Hardison chatted about mushrooms for a minute before Eliot stopped him. “Okay, go back to that barrel booth again, but on the other side.” He waited until Hardison, now more relaxed, returned to his position. “Two guys on your right, standing together. Don’t look now. One is white, one is probably Latino. Mid thirties, well dressed. Good shoes. Latino is more of a hipster. The white guy is unremarkable; t-shirt and trousers on your level of blending in, short dark hair, sunglasses. He stays behind the hipster so every eye would first catch the Latino guy.”

“Trouble for us?”

“Probably not, but we’ll see.”

Hardison pulled out his phone and checked the guys over his screen. “And why I had to shut up?”

“They might’ve heard you.”

“You really have to catch up, dude. A year or two ago that might’ve been suspicious, but today everybody uses bluetooth everything and  keeps their phones in their pockets. That’s why I don’t even bother anymore to hide when I speak in our comm. Hiding it is what makes it suspicious. You definitely need a course in insert a year here. You’re way behind.”

“What? Insert what where?”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” Hardison waved his phone in his general direction, then slid it back in his pocket.  “Now... Here’s the plan. I’ll pull my hoodie over my head and grab Ursula’s purse with her phone in it, then run like hell. You stay close so you can trample anyone trying to chase me. Once I get far enough, I’ll stop and hack her phone.”

“You mean clone it?”

“That works only in movies. You can’t clone today’s phones, unless you have them in your hands. Only hacking will get me access to her calls, messages, everything.”

Eliot fished out his phone, a mighty machine filled with applications Hardison had declared absolutely necessary, but Eliot never used, and turned it in his hand as if seeing it for the first time. “You mean you don’t just put your phone near the target phone and bzzzzt, it’s cloned?

“No, because of ICCID and IMEI and a lot of other stuff you don’t understand. I need that phone in my hands. And I’m gonna get it.”

He was going to get it while the world’s best thief munched on hotdogs just a couple of booths away from them? Yeah, Hardison’s issues today were definitely worth investigating.

Eliot left the epoxy paradise, glancing for the last time at the shimmering beauty, and shuffled through the mass closer to Hardison. “Parker, what do you think about Hardison’s plan?” he said.

“Not gonna work. She clutches her purse at her ribs, under her elbow. He will have to rip it from her hand.”

“That’s the point,” Hardison said. “She has to think I’m a simple thief after her money, because you, as an honorable citizen, will return her purse to her when I’m done with the phone.” 

“You’ll take the money and cards, but leave the phone and everything else inside?”

“Yes. We need her to continue using it, so we have access to all her calls and messages to her boss. Now, get ready, Eliot. I’m putting my hoodie on.”

“Not yet, Hardis—”

Too late. Hardison surged forward before Eliot could tell him to wait for him to observe the two suspicious guys for at least ten more minutes.

He shut his mouth and slid closer to Ursula. 

Hardison pushed her at her husband, jerking the purse from her hands.

“No! Stop that!” Her scream cut through the murmur of the crowd, but Hardison shot through the mass like an arrow. Five, six huge steps and his hooded silhouette vanished among the people.

The husband made a reluctant step after him, but bumped into Eliot.

“What happened?” Eliot pitched his voice high. “Omg, he robbed you? Help, help!”

This day was surging to first place on his scale of embarrassing, teeth-gritting annoyances. He flailed his arms around Ursula, half helpless, half hysteric. The crowd, like a mystic monster with a thousand eyes, all turned toward them.

Three pairs of eyes were the only important ones. The two guys spared only a quick glance towards the scene, confirming his suspicion. Every normal person would watch the commotion with interest. These two had something more important on their minds.

The third pair of eyes belonged to Parker. She used the crowd gathering to come closer, still chewing her hot dog, but she didn’t remember to film him - or decided to be merciful - and didn’t have her phone camera pointed at him to record him for future use. She stood beside the two kids who ran the barrel stand who both looked like they wished they had their phones ready, lowly snickering.

“My wallet, my cards, omg.” Ursula wailed.

“Maybe someone will catch him,” Eliot said. “Somebody call the police!”

And that was enough of the show. Some people were aware that pickpockets usually worked in groups. At any moment someone could remember that he might’ve been a distraction. He murmured a few calming words more, and let her husband calm her.

Several women gathered around Ursula so he could step aside and mingle back into the crowd.

Right now, all they needed was Hardison caught by some heroic bystander, and this disastrous day would be complete.

“Parker, come to the next dome to the left, the green one,” Hardison said. “I ditched the hoodie but I don’t wanna risk coming closer until people disperse.”

Eliot raised his phone to his mouth. “Done with hacking the phone?” Normal or not, now he didn’t want to risk simply speaking into his earbud.

“Nope. Just started. It won’t take a long so get ready. Parker, you will look all innocent and happy when returning the phone.”

“But not to Ursula,” Eliot said. “Find the nearest cop and hand the bag to him. You’re not supposed to know who that purse belongs to. Besides,” he motioned his head to Ursula. “Her husband is calling the cops right now. When you approach a cop, he will get details from the dispatcher and return it. If not now, then later today.” 

“Almost done,” Hardison said.

Parker turned on her heel. “I’m on my way.”

The two guys changed their position. Eliot quickly checked Ursula, but she was still there while her husband waved his hand explaining on his phone.

And Hardison was right. Barrel booth with the two kids was indeed the best spot for observing; the two guys moved closer to it, almost to the same spot Parker left just seconds before.

There was a slight possibility that neither they nor Ursula were the reason for their watch. Maybe they just wandered into some shady business of the local criminals.

They didn’t look like a gang members. But neither did they act like cops. And they were too sloppy to be trained professionals.

Eliot slipped deeper into the crowd and used his phone to snap three pictures of the two guys. Doing anything more would attract their attention, though he wasn’t sure Hardison would be able to do much with these low quality pictures.

Maybe that was one of the reasons for Hardison’s sulking and today’s strange eagerness to do things he wasn’t supposed to do. He hacked the THRU Inc. center building for ten days with no progress, living in his chair, completely lost to the outside world. Every now and then they encountered an enemy they had trouble beating, but this time Hardison clearly took that it personally.

“By the way,” Eliot said. “I thought that clon... hacking that phone would take hours. Good job.” 

“It’s easy when you know what to do,” Hardison said. “There you go, Parker. I put the phone back. I took only the wallet. Now you go and find a cop who will—”

“I have a better idea,” Parker said. “Stay there.”

Eliot grit his teeth but said nothing. He might’ve had more experience in the surveillance business, but he was no match to Parker when street things were in question.

He reminded himself that whatever happened, he was close enough to react, and forced his muscles into painfully tiresome relaxation. Those two guys - Hipster and Invisible - may have been amateurs, but they also might’ve been working with someone who could read postures.

A dress and a wig on a man who radiated tension and paranoia wouldn’t help. He might as well be a walking billboard instead.

Parker showed up at the edge of the crowd, from the same spot where Hardison disappeared. She stood there, not moving, clutching her hot dog and staring into nothing as if lost in thought.

Eliot scanned the people around her. Nothing suspicious for now.

Ten seconds, fifteen seconds passed. She put the last piece in her mouth and lowered her head to shake off the crumbs from her shirt. And stopped.

“Look!” she yelled. She raised her head and searched the crowd, waved her hand. “Lady! You there who got robbed! Look here!”

Both Ursula and her husband turned to her. Parker smiled broadly and still waving, pointed to the ground near the boxes. “I think he threw your things here while running.”

“Oh thank God!” Ursula hurried toward her. She picked up the purse and quickly searched it. “He took my wallet.”

“Oh?” Parker frowned. “That’s too bad.”

“Ah well. My phone and important papers are still here.” 

Parker shrugged. “Yeah, better something than nothing, right?” She walked away, slowly, as any other teenager would.

“Good job, Parker,” Eliot said. “Now we only have to—”

“This went smooth, didn’t it?” Hardison said.

“Yep, smooth. Good action. Now we can go home and you can start tracking her...” Eliot stopped when Ursula turned toward him while returning to her husband. She clutched her purse again under her elbow, but she fished another phone from her pocket.

“What?”

“Hardison... That phone you hacked... what color it was?”

“Black. Why?”

“She just took a phone from her pocket. It has some flowery mask on it.”

“Shit.”

“Can you check what sort of info you is on  the hacked phone? Can you go into her messages and read them?”

“Gimme a sec...”

Eliot checked Hipster and Invisible while waiting. Both of them pretended to study the purple things in the barrels.

“Well,” Hardison said.

“Well?”

“The last message says - and don’t forget to buy salmon on your way back. Love you.”

Yay. Eliot sighed. “So you cloned her personal phone, not her business one?”

“Hacked!”

“Whatever.”

“Yes. The wrong phone. We have to do it all over.”

 

***

 

Hardison had ditched his hoodie and jacket, and casually returned to the crime scene. Nobody looked at him twice, not even Ursula when he walked past her.

So far, so good.

But this opening in the dome felt crowded, and Eliot’s nerves vibrated. Ursula and her husband still stood by some cages, engaged in an endless conversation with the booth’s owners.

The two guys, planted firmly behind the barrels, kept silent watch.

Eliot motioned for Hardison and Parker to move away.

This time all three of them peeked from behind a booth for blackberry wine, and besides being nervous, he felt stupid, too.

“It won’t work the second time,” Eliot said. “We’ll have to think of something else. We’re can’t do anything else with the phone today. Let me think.”

Hardison shook his head. “Think about whatever you want, but we have to—”

As frustrating as this was, Eliot had no intentions to add to Hardison’s self-doubt issues. “Relax. We have enough time to do something else. For now, we’ll just follow her and see what else happens. Don’t show yourself too much.”

“Great. Let’s… observe.”

Eliot sighed. And observed.

Knowing that Parker and Hardison would watch Ursula, he concentrated on the two guys.

One of many possibilities was them being Fair security in plain clothes, but they would’ve mingled around – and they would most definitely have reacted to the robbery happening in front of them.

As if they heard him, they suddenly showed signs of life.

For a moment Eliot’s attention was divided, because Ursula and her husband also moved. But the guys didn’t even glance in Ursula’s direction. They took a few steps closer to the barrel booth.

The kids behind the counter finally noticed them. They couldn’t have been a year older than nine and twelve. The older one looked at Hipster and Invisible – and froze.

For fucks sake. Eliot’s twitch of unease turned into a full out tornado under his skin.

Those two were here for the kids.

 

Chapter 2.

 

***

 

“Yeah, that’s definitely something nasty,” Hardison said.

They were watching the short conversation between Hipster and the older kid.  It was obvious just from the body language to see how scared the kid was.

Hipster pushed a bag into the kid’s hands that was quickly tucked into a backpack.

Then Invisible came closer, hovering, and pointed at the younger kid.

 _Preston_ , Eliot read from his lips. And _pay_.

“The younger one is Preston,” he said. “He said something about paying. I couldn’t see what the other guy told the older kid.”

“That’s it,” Hardison said. “I’ll chase them off.”

“No police, Hardison. We can’t risk any trouble right now.”

“Got it.” Hardison hurried toward the kids.

“Parker, keep an eye on Ursula, but stay close to us,” Eliot huffed and followed Hardison.

Hardison certainly didn’t waste any time. He approached the small group, spread his arms and proclaimed, “My name is Reverend Preston Chamberlain.”

All four of them looked at him. He waited, arms extended..

“Yes?” Hipster said.

“What is your business with those children?”

“They are my nephews,” Hipster said.

Hardison remained unmoved.

Eliot could imagine his frantic thoughts. They could’ve been his nephews, in fact. Maybe they sneaked into the fair without permission. Maybe their parents sent those two to keep an eye on them. Maybe…

But no. The kids were frightened. They twitched when he claimed them.

“Bullshit,” Hardison clearly enunciated the word, no doubt coming to the same conclusion. “You leave, or I call the cops.”

“You think you can do it before I shoot you?”

Well, this was a relief. Finally, a clear course of action. Eliot quickened his steps, feeling a grin on his face, and stepped in front of Hardison.

Leaning a half step toward them – and to his pleasure they withdrew the same distance – he lowered his voice. “You think you can shoot him before I cut your throats open?”

“Wh—”

He met their gaze head on, smirking through all the damn makeup on his face, and purposefully tensed his muscles. He was almost disappointed when they backed down.

He forced himself to remain still as they shrugged and walked away, disappearing into the crowd after only a couple of steps.

“Was that necessary?” Hardison grumbled.

“No,” he admitted. “But it felt good.”

“And now…” Hardison turned to the kids. “let’s talk about—”

The older kid flinched away from them. “We’re going home,” he said to his brother. “I’m off for the trailer – don’t talk to these people, got it?”

“Okay.”

Hardison waited until the older one ran off, then glanced over at Eliot.

“I’ll be near,” Eliot said and appeared to melt into the crowd, leaving him with the kid. He kept his eye on Hardison, though, reading his posture and listening to his words through the earbud.

Hardison leaned his elbows on the booth and relaxed his smile.

 “Do you want to tell me what that was about?” he said gently.

“Arturo said no. And Mom told us not to talk to strangers.”

“So, those two guys weren’t strangers to you? You know them?”

“No. We. Don’t.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t press you. I just thought they looked dangerous.” Hardison turned to the barrels and observed them. “Give me a pound of those purple tomatoes, please. What’s your name?”

The younger kid measured a small bag.  “Preston,” he said.

“You don’t say! I’m a Preston, too. Cool, huh? I guess your grandpa was a Preston? I’m named after my grandpa. Or was is your dad? And orange tomatoes, please.”

“Gramps was Preston.”

Hardison looked over his shoulder and hunched a little, lowering his voice. “Okay, Preston, now listen carefully. You’re minors at the fair. You might get in trouble if you’re alone, not because of the strange men, but because of the permits needed to sell. Do you have any grownups with you here?”

Preston hesitated, but when Hardison said nothing to fill the silence, he admitted, “Mom is working. But we talked about this and she said it was okay to... to sell.”

Eliot almost jumped in to tell Hardison where to press, but there was no need for that. Hardison caught the strange tone of Preston’s last words. “Okay to sell? Yes, but where? Did you tell her you were going to the Fair?”

A stubborn silence.

“I see. So, no one is coming to get you and your things by car? You two have to carry all those tomatoes home by yourselves?”

“We have a bike trailer. The two of us can pull it easy.”

Hardison tilted his head to the left, eyeing the kid. “I don’t believe you two can do that.” His voice held the perfect amount of a grown-up being wise tone. “I bet it took you more than three hours to get here.”

“Twenty-five minutes and we weren’t hurrying,” the kid protested, a proud look on his face.

“But if you live so close.... I can’t believe it! I know your mom! Dark hair, brown eyes, pretty, grows tomatoes... we had the same teacher, old Mrs. Forrester. Your mom was known for one thing... do you know what? She was the only girl in our school who didn’t paint her nails. I guess she doesn’t do it now, either. Am I right?”

“Oh? No, she doesn’t. Soil ruins them.”

“When you get home, tell her Preston says hi. And also, send my regards to Mrs. Jiménez. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“Who’s that?”

“Your next door neighbor.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Our next door neighbor is Mr. Collins.”

“The butcher?”

“No, the baker.” Preston rolled his eyes. “He’s mom’s boss.”

“Then Mrs. Jiménez must be on the left of your house.”

Preston chuckled. “No, nobody lives on the left. It’s a ruin.”

Hardison made a choking sound. “So she’s dead? Her house is abandoned?”

“It’s an old brick factory. Nobody ever lived there.”

Hardison made a thoughtful noise. “Maybe she moved.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Eliot cleared his throat. This was going great, but Hardison needed to wrap it up. “Hardison, finish it. Arturo is back.”

The older kid frowned at Hardison.

Hardison picked up the bigger barrel. “I’ll help you with this one. It looks heavier than the other.” He put it on the trailer and patted Preston’s shoulder. “Nice talking to you, kids. Good luck with your tomatoes.”

Preston beamed. “Thank you.”

Hardison didn’t wait for them to load the other barrel, he moved off. “Okay, guys, now I have something to work on. Collins bakery near an old brick factory, names of the kids and mother’s description, all of that in twenty-five minute radius from here. It won’t be a problem to find them. Wait, Parker, what are you doing?”

Eliot glanced at Parker who approached the kids, this time with ice cream.

Eliot sighed. “I’m not sure it’s wise to let them see you, in case we have to do something later.”

She paid no attention to his warning. “Those tomatoes?” she said to the kids. “My mom grows them, but she doesn’t have orange ones. Do you have any seedlings?”

“Yes, but not here,” Arturo said.

“Mom would like to buy some. Have a business card?”

“No?”

“A phone? Address? Where we can buy them?”

“We have a brochure. That good?” Preston reached into trailer and pulled out a handful of papers.

“Yeah, that’ll do.” Parker took one with a smile, and left.

Silence from Hardison’s end of the comm was not a good sign. “Good job, Parker,” Eliot said. “But we would probably find them with Hardison’s info just as fast.”  

“Probably?” There was a slight grumble in Hardison’s voice.

“Most definitely.”

“And do you know why?” Hardison said. “Because my talk with the kid was just a decoy.”

Eliot turned to see the smile blooming on his face.

“I put a tracker in their barrel,” Hardison explained. “Now, can we finally get out of here? I have to think of something for Ursula, find the kids, and explain to our fearless leader how three notorious professionals couldn’t steal one lousy phone.”

Yeah, that would be interesting. Eliot nodded for Parker to join them, and led the way to their car.

 

 

***

 

Ursula Strout was the personal assistant to Lawrence Bird, owner and general director of THRU Inc.

The Leverage team had been after them for an entire month, unusually long for them. Eliot knew they all had to be frustrated with the slow progress and the small, gnawing delays they seemed to encounter daily.

Still, Nate Ford appeared to be completely content.

Their fearless leader waited for them with hot tea instead of coffee. He spread the tiny porcelain cups out across the table in front of the screen that showed the main THRU Inc. Building - the one Hardison wasn’t yet able to hack.

Hardison’s grimace was a clear sign the hacker definitely thought it was some sort of message.

Eliot wasn’t sure. 

He sat in a chair, breathing through his own frustration.

Parker chose not to sit down, and gulped the tea from her cup before simply walking away, leaving the two of them with Nate.

“In short,” Eliot said, “we got her personal phone and Hardison hacked it. Only thing, it was the wrong phone, so we’re at square one again.”

“I see.” Nate poured more tea in Parker’s empty cup using a slow, elegant movement.

Eliot suppressed a sigh. That slowness was hypnotic. “Any reason you’re channeling your inner geisha?”

“Sophie told me I needed to work on my patience issues,” Nate said. “So I have decided that no matter how slow our progress is, we’re still moving forward.”

Hardison let out a small grumble. “Where is Sophie, by the way?”

“Speaking at the Photography convention.”

Eliot froze with his cup half way to his mouth. “I beg your pardon? “

“Her course is Using body language and facial expressions as means to achieve a wanted emotion in modern celebrity photography.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.” He sipped the tea and worked on schooling his own facial expression. Chamomile tea. It tasted like something wrung out of a towel.

“She won’t be here today or tomorrow,” Nate continued.

“That’s too bad. We could’ve used her on this...” Hardison shifted in his seat without even bothering to pick up his cup. “Look, we stumbled upon something that might slow us down even more. But we can’t let it pass.”

“Why?”

“Kids are involved.”

Nate raised his eyebrows.

Hardison began on a thorough explanation of their afternoon, but Eliot watched Nate instead. 

Nate might be working on his patience, but he still had some tells. His fingers threaded through his hair three times, ruffling it even more, before his facade of calmness cracked.

And that meant that they were on a reset, just as Eliot suspected they would be the moment he saw Nate’s attention shifting once kids were mentioned.

Ursula’s phone data was supposed to be one of the last nails in the coffin they’d been building for Lawrence Bird. Only by now his coffin looked like a middle grader’s science project, riddled with scrap nails of all shapes and sizes, and somehow didn’t even look like a coffin. They were so far in the weeds.

“And you don’t know who those guys are?” Nate said.

“I can’t read them,” Eliot admitted. “There’s nothing distinctive about them I can use for identification. I can only tell you what they ain’t. They ain’t military, cops, government agents of any sort, or connected to any private security agency.”

“That leaves us with the criminal part of the specter. I’m not sure which option is better.”

“The main question,” Hardison chimed in, “is how we can find out who those guys are and where to find them.”

“Any idea how to get that info?”

“We’ll go to the kid’s house and speak with their mother.” Eliot looked at Nate. “You wanna jump in?”

Nate glanced sideways, toward the screen with THRU Inc. building displayed. Silence spread for almost five seconds. “Maybe not this time,” he finally said. “I’ll be here and work on Lawrence Bird, and try to find a way to meet his secretary. She might be the way in we’re looking for.”

“Ah, Miss Tuesday?” Eliot said. “She falls for older guys, that’s true.”

Nate turned to stare at him.

“I said older, not old. You are older than us, after all. I was merely stating facts.”

“Seriously?”

Eliot grinned at him and sipped the awful tea again.

“Do you need Parker today?” Hardison said. “I wanna take her with us. You know... every chance she gets to practice her people-ing is useful.”

Nate glanced at his watch. “It’ll be evening soon. I might need her tomorrow, but tonight you’re all free to help those kids.”

Parker cleared her throat behind them. “We got Ursula again tomorrow,” she said. “When she talked with those guys who sold rabbits, I heard her say she would come back tomorrow so they could bring some rabbit she wanted for her grandson.”

“So we might have another chance,” Hardison said.

Maybe. Eliot wasn’t sure they could create a similar diversion to get her business phone, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure any diversion would be safe to attempt. The best option would be a quick pickpocketing and even faster return of the hacked phone. But with how their luck had gone lately, that would prove impossible somehow, leaving them with only some complicated plan. Which was still unknown for now.

Maybe they all needed to sleep it off, clear their minds. Speaking of which...

“Let’s go and see what the kids’ mother has to say,” he said. “If we do it now, we’ll have enough time to finish it before night.”

Hardison got up. “Fine by me. Parker, you have the brochure with the address? Or do I need to search for the bakery and factory?”

“Got it.”

Nate took his cup, leaned back in his chair, and slowly exhaled.

Hardison rolled his eyes at him, but Eliot just smiled. The amount of forced relaxation Nate was displaying told him how he really felt. And judging by the somewhat pained smile on Nate’s face, Sophie’s suggestion appeared to be more than just a suggestion.

Nate’s eventual nagging would’ve distressed Hardison even more, slowing him down, which would make Nate more nervous, and a vicious cycle would spin out of control. Her keen eye caught the perfect pressure point that should stop it - and surprisingly, results were already showing.

Nate’s suffering was, also, amusing to watch. Win - win.

“Good luck with THRU Inc.” Eliot waved his hand at the screen. “Let’s go, you two.”

The three of them marched out.

 

***

 

He drove only ten minutes, but the change in scenery was disturbing. Street after street, the houses grew smaller and older. No parks, no playgrounds. Even the colors were dimmed. No soft golden light seeping from above like in the dome. Any yellow painted here was dull and dusty, with a grayish hue.

Fewer cars, more people on the streets.

More bricks loose and windows covered with planks, fewer trees and flowers.

Hardison’s GPS led them towards a tall brick chimney emerging from the ruin of a factory.

On this street, an thin layer of crumbling brick painted everything in dirty red.

To Eliot, even breathing here was different, the air leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

“We’re here,” Hardison announced, pointing at the small house in the shade of the  single wall of the factory left standing. The house was probably the only thing keeping that wall from collapsing. Collins’ bakery, was the sign on the door on the first floor.

Eliot parked as close as he could to the curb.  Keeping an eye on the car was a necessity in this neighborhood.

Parker drew out the brochure. “Maria Rodrigues, Heirloom tomatoes and seedlings. That would be those two windows above the bakery.” She pointed at the two small windows facing the street, under a flat roof.

Hardison’s shoulders were slumped when he got out of the car. Even Parker’s quick steps seemed to lose all their momentum.  They must feel the heavy air as well.

Eliot stood by the car for a moment, checking the surroundings. Five other houses, including two across the street, had “for sale” signs plastered in front of them. Some of the signs were significantly faded, but two of them new. Windows without curtains or light silently echoed the dying street.

He had seen many neighborhoods like this one, but there were usually children on the streets, making them feel more alive. Being poor didn’t necessarily mean being unhappy.

But this street, felt different, felt…drained.

“Where does she grow those tomatoes?” Hardison muttered as he rang on the doorbell with her last name on it.

Eliot threw one more glance down the street before joining them.

“It’s open,” Hardison said. A small corridor led to the stairs going up to the second floor.

Old floorboard planks squeaked as they made the climb. Eliot caught himself holding his breath, without knowing why.

“This is gonna be weird,” Hardison whispered as they gathered before the door. “Let me take the lead, okay?”

He knocked on the door.

“We’re not buying anything,” called a female voice from the inside.

“Mrs. Rodrigues?”

“Yes?”

“We’d like to speak with you. We were at the fair a couple of hours ago and met your sons there. I can assure you we mean no harm.”

The door opened after a couple of seconds. “They told me about you,” a woman said. “Come in.” She held a phone in her hand, and he didn’t need to be an expert to read her stiff posture.

She was younger than Eliot expected, possibly early twenties. He would definitely have thought she was the kids’ sister if he saw them in public together. Having her first boy in high school said a lot about the kind of life they lived, especially when the father wasn’t mentioned at all.

But when they stepped directly into the living room, with no proper daylight coming in the two small windows, he mentally bit his tongue.

Soft pastel tones and strategically scattered lamps made the room feel almost luxurious. The white furniture was cheap, but decorated with green plants - none of which were tomatoes -and other details, including the splashes of orange, yellow, and red transformed it into a stylish urban oasis. The small room, despite having a low ceiling, seemed twice as big. Cinnamon and apple scents wafted in from the open kitchen towards the back.

Two handmade work tables sat beneath the windows, connected by a shelf with toys and books.

“I need an explanation,” Maria said. “I’m not buying your Robin Hood fairy tale.”

“Who is on the other end of the line?” Eliot pointed at her phone.

“Someone close, who will be here in twenty seconds if I scream for help.”

“We will sit down. That will give you five more seconds head start. As far as I’m concerned, you can stand by the door if you feel threatened. But there’s really no need for that. Have you ever seen robbers introducing themselves and showing their faces?”

“Still not buying it. Talk.”

Asking her where the kids were now would be suspicious, so Eliot said nothing. He simply took a seat. Hardison and Parker followed suit, both of them trying to radiate trustworthiness. Hardison’s smile was always warm and genuine, so it wasn’t a big deal for him, but Parker had some trouble with making her grimace appear natural. She put her palms between her knees, which added a little to her act. But just a little.

“Hardison, be my guest,” Eliot said. He could sound trustworthy, but in this case, Hardison was the better choice. His eagerness to help, to make things better, was adorable in its sincerity and Eliot hadn’t yet met a person who couldn’t feel that. “I would start with a minute by minute account of the fair scene,” he added.

Hardison also knew what to say, and what not to. 

Eliot watched as Maria’s hand with the phone relaxed while Hardison described what had happened.

In Hardison’s version, they were at the fair only to buy stuff, of course. They worked for a small private company who specialized in legal matters and often helped people pro bono. Hardison’s somewhat convoluted explanation raised Maria’s eyebrows, but it seemed she understood he didn’t want to go into details.

Another eyebrow twitch came when Hardison pointed him out as their security expert, making him painfully self - aware.

“This is a disguise for a case we’re working on.” He tried not to sound too defensive. Parker’s smirk revealed it was a pathetic attempt.

“So, really...” Hardison made a pause to take a breath - and put an accent, of course, “We are here to offer our help. Your kids are adorable, and brave, and so well raised, that I hate to see them manipulated and threatened by scumbags. Whatever you need us to do, it will be free. But you have to tell us what’s going on.”

The phone in her hand was forgotten.

Eliot had never before seen such an inner struggle so visible on somebody’s face. Hope, fear, caution, and the need to talk fought for almost a minute under a twitch of her lips.

“No strings attached,” he said softly. “This is what we do, from time to time. Talk to us.”

“I have to go back to the kitchen,” she whispered finally. “I need a minute. My cake is burning.”

He nodded.

She practically ran the steps to the kitchen door.

As if by arrangement, they didn’t speak. 

Parker got up and went over to the windows. She caressed the two work tables, her hand lightly touching the smooth surface, then touched the books, toys, and crayons. That part of the room was filled with love and care, and probably the most important thing to her - stability.

She reached for a book on the highest shelf. Bed time stories. Both he and Hardison watched as she held the book without opening it, just sliding her fingers over the title.

“They didn’t tell me anything when they came back,” a voice behind them said. Maria had returned from the kitchen and stood in the doorway.

Parker put the book back on the shelf.

“They mentioned that some guys tried to sell them weed earlier, but that’s something that’s quite often here. Happens almost every day. I was more worried about the weird people who jumped in to help them.” She gave them a small, apologizing smile, then continued. “They know what to say when someone offers them drugs. But...” she stopped and brushed back a strand of her hair, leaving a trail of flour on her cheek. “Are you sure they took - really took - something from them?”

“We all saw it. Maybe you should talk with—”

“I didn’t!” A young voice from somewhere above them called out along with the sound of a metal clang.

A ceiling hatch opened, and Arturo peeked down at them. “Don’t believe them, mom. I did as you told me and said no.”

“Climb down.” Some of the strength returned in her voice. “Lower the stairs and climb down. Both of you.”

“No. I have to finish watering. Make them leave.”

“Arturo!”

“No!”

Eliot stood up. “I have a better idea,” he said. “You have your tomatoes on the roof?”

“Yes. Raised beds with seedlings. Why?”

“I need seedlings for my garden, so we’ll do this the most efficient way. I’ll pick them, and talk with him while you finish your cake.”

Arturo’s head disappeared. “No! I won’t. I’m not lowering the stairs. Mom, make them leave.”

Ha, nice try.

Even if the ceiling wasn’t this low, he wouldn’t have any problem with reaching the opening. Eliot simply jumped up, grabbed the rim, and pulled himself up in one swing.

Evening was setting in but the orange sky from the west still gave enough light for him to see the entire roof.

Arturo withdrew from him, toward Preston who stood with a watering can, looking as if he wanted to jump off the roof.

Eliot closed the opening and secured the hatch.

“They can’t hear us now?” he said.

“No, not if you don’t yell. Why did you do that? You can’t just go and tattle to our mom! I had it under control, I knew what—”

“Cut the crap and come over here, or I’ll talk loud enough she hears everything. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

He waited until they exchanged enough sideways glances. “Now.” He lowered his voice into an ominous rasp.

They shuffled closer. Preston sat on a bag of soil and clutched the watering can. Arturo stood beside him, crossed his arms and raised his chin.

Yeah, cause that would really work.

“I want to give you a chance to tell her by yourself. That’ll look better than us showing her the complete recording of your talk with those guys.”

“What?”

“We have it all recorded. We’re professionals, kid. We don’t play games.”

“Show me.”

“As I said, we don’t play games. Do you know what we should do? Take the recording and go to police with it. You have any idea how that would end for you and your brother?” 

 

“We have to tell her,” Preston whispered.

“No!”

“Arturo, that wasn’t your first talk with them, was it?”

The kid twitched.

Maybe Hardison was right, after all. It wasn’t normal for Hardison to acknowledge the true extent of danger... No. Scratch that. He was pretty good - sometimes - in assessing the situation. The only thing that was strange here was Eliot’s diminishing of all the signs he had seen. This time, no alarm bells rang in his mind and even now he wasn’t completely sure they should be here at all.

Maybe their job was done at the fair, with chasing the guys away. There was a good chance that that was it - the kids wouldn’t hear from them again. But this time he decided to wait and be sure.

“So, what it will be? Going down to your mom or going down to the police station?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He opened the hatch and lowered the stairs down, climbing down without looking back. No tomato seedlings for him tonight.

 Maria’s face was as white as her furniture.

“What happened?”

Hardison typed on his tablet. “I just showed her the pics of the two guys. Tell him, Maria.”

She perched on the armrest of a chair. “I know about them. Never met them.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Nobody knows who they are and they don’t belong to some gang or work solo. We do know they are not our local gang.” 

“What do they want?”

“They recruit kids to sell drugs for them.”

“And your local gang has no objections to that?”

“They can’t catch them. They are a small gang and they cover only a couple of blocks. People tolerate them, and in return the gang doesn’t press too hard. They can’t risk alienating the neighborhood. They recruit, but if kids say no, that’s a no.”

“What makes these two guys different?”

“They kill.” She waved her hand towards the window and the street below. “That house across the street, now for sale... A teenager ditched them. They killed his mother. We don’t know for sure it was them, but they tell all kids that their families would pay. She was shot after coming home from work, only a few weeks ago.”

“Police did nothing?”

“They said it was robbery gone wrong.” Another wave of her hand. “Down the street, a guy reported to police his kid was recruited. The cops arrested his son for selling drugs, and didn’t even try to investigate who recruited him. That family moved away after their car burned down shortly after that.”

“I have bad news for you. They’ve approached Arturo at least two times.”

“I don’t get it,” Hardison said. “What’s in it for them? Killing, burning cars, for what? How much weed can a kid sell in a poor neighborhood to make it worth all that?”

“Apparently, enough.” Eliot wanted to add more, but Arturo’s voice stopped him.

“Mom?”

“Tell me,” Maria whispered.

Arturo climbed down and for a moment just stood there, staring at the carpet. But when he raised his eyes, Eliot saw the eyes of an old man, and his stomach hurt.

“They know where we live,” Arturo said. “And they knew Preston’s name when we talked for the first time. There was nothing I could do.”

Maria entwined her fingers, but her voice was calm, steady. “What do you do?”

“I only carry packages to other people. I don’t sell anything!”

“That’s how it starts,” Eliot said. “The kids have no chance if they have quick bucks on one side, and threats to their family on the other. Not really a choice.”

“They would kill Preston if I told you, mom. You, cops, friends, anybody.”

Eliot raised his hand to stop Maria’s question. “Do you know anything about these guys?” he asked the kid. “Names, phone numbers? How do they approach you?”

“They call themselves Jim and Joe. I don’t think those are their real names. But,” Arturo reached in his pocket. “They gave me this phone. I don’t know anything else.”

Hardison quickly grabbed it. “Cheap burner. I’ll take all the numbers you called, but I’m sure they will also be burners, untraceable.”

“They changed their numbers. We’ve met four times and they gave me a new number twice.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Eliot said. “We don’t need anything else.”

Maria turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“We’ll keep an eye on this. Arturo, if they contact you and we’re not near, act very scared. Tell them you have no idea who we are or why we did that oat the fair, and tell them it won’t happen again, ever.”

Hardison wrote on the brochure. “These are our numbers. Call if anything happens. Maria, where do you work?"

“Night shift in this bakery. That’s why we got this room to live here. I pay one third of my wage for it, but at least the kids are not completely alone at night. I’m only a minute away.”

“Are you alone in the bakery at night?” Eliot asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Lock all the doors and windows and keep your phones nearby. We’ll be in touch.”

“You think they might try something tonight?”

Eliot felt Hardison’s and Parker’s gaze turning to him, but he plastered a calming smile on his face. “Not likely. Just do everything like normal.”

He even managed not to blink.

 

***

 

Nobody said a word while heading back to the car. 

Once they got in, Eliot started the car, drove to the end of the street, took a turn, and then parked it again.

“Think in numbers,” he said.  “Two guys terrorizing one kid to sell a little bit of weed or make one delivery doesn’t look profitable. But I’d like to take a look into their planner - I bet they have a daily schedule. In this neighborhood they can visit ten kids in about two hours. Twenty kids in four hours. Probably more than that.”

“So, they are spreading a net and catching a bunch of small fish right under the nose of all the other gangs. Just the two of them can have hundreds of fish in their net in one month.”

“I’m not sure we should get involved in this,” Parker said. “Maybe we did enough, and doing anything more would only cause more trouble.”

They sat in the car without a word for almost a minute. Hardison was the one who finally spoke, “This is what we do. Helping people is my - no, our - way of repaying for all illegal things we have done, and the illegal things we still do. We have the means; we have the will. Who else is going to help them?”

But Eliot knew Parker was partially right. There was the possibility that they only used fear to get the kids to do what they want.

“Maybe they just use a combination of fear and good luck,” he said. “Oh, look, the kid’s mom got shot right after he said no, so all of them will think we did that. And even better; just when we thought of retreating from the hood after that family called cops on us, their car electronics burned and now nobody dares to say no to us.” Eliot paused. “Yeah, sounds too good to be true, I know. But it’s possible.”

“So what now?” Parker said.

Eliot scanned the street before speaking. “It’ll be dark soon. You two call a taxi and go home. I’ll grab a pizza somewhere and find a good spot for surveillance.”

“The whole night?”

“If they have more kids to control, they won’t wait around. If I were them, I would sort this out the same day, and increase the pressure if needed. Night is perfect time for that.”

“Are you sure you won’t need us?”

“Pretty sure. Go home. I’ll call if I need you.”

Hardison reached to the back seat and grabbed his laptop bag. “You might need these.” He handed him a handful of motion sensors, two small cameras and several trackers. “Just plug and play. They are all synched to all of our phones. Just make sure you aren’t too far away. If I stay with you, with my laptop and tablet, I could boost my—”

“No need for that. You go do your stuff.”

Hardison twitched the same way Arturo had on the roof. “What do you mean by that?”

Oh boy.  “Fighting thugs is my part of the job, not yours. That’s all.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Eliot caught Parker rolling her eyes in the rear view mirror. Maybe tomorrow would be a chance to talk with her about Hardison’s issue with that damn hacking. If he continued to be so itchy every time someone mentioned it...

For a moment, Hardison just sat there, fumbling with his tech thingies. 

Eliot leaned over him and opened the door. “Get out, both of you. Talk with Nate about Ursula while I’m away. Tomorrow we’ll work on that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” With that, Hardison scrambled out with his bags. Parker climbed across the seat before sliding out and closed the door.

Eliot drove away before Hardison could think of something else to say.

 

***

 

By the time he circled around in search of a pizza place and returned to the same spot, the streets were completely dark.

Only one street lamp worked, and it was at the far end of the street.

Several lit windows and hip-hop music coming from one house were the only signs that he wasn’t in some post-apocalyptic movie.

The abandoned factory looked like zombies could swarm out any moment.

In fact, the only place with any normal signs of life was the bakery, still lit up, even when closed. A light breeze brought him the scents of fresh bread, yeast, and cinnamon.

He drove past the bakery twice, investigating all the small alleys around, checking for good hiding spots and retreat paths.

Not much to see. Three back alleys ended in piles of garbage. Only two connected to other streets.

The bakery had a small backyard and driveway for delivery vehicles. He put a motion sensor on the back door, and placed two cameras - one towards the backyard, one covering the driveway. 

Hardison was right. His phone flickered when icons lit up. A small working light bulb above the back door of the bakery was enough to make out shapes in the backyard. Details weren’t needed.

He returned to his car to get a flashlight, but that would be his last walking for tonight. It would be too suspicious if someone saw him twice, and unwanted attention was the last thing he needed right now.

The only place good for observing and hiding was the factory that was looming over the entire block. Surrounded by wire fencing and stay away signs, crumbled and half collapsed, it might prove to be too dangerous. Yet, he had to try.

Locks on the fence gates looked solid. The wire, on the other hand, didn’t. He circled around until he found a weak section. Rusty nails attaching the wire to the wooden post gave way after only one strong tug. He slid through the opening, then checked his phone.

Keeping an eye on the icons, he slowly trudged through construction garbage, careful of his steps. Loose bricks covered everything.

His phone and the moon gave him enough light to navigate through the open yard but when he reached the part of the building leaning on the bakery, he had to turn on the flashlight. Getting buried under a ton of bricks wasn’t his idea of a night out. To be honest, this entire thing wasn’t his best idea, but he had brought it upon himself. No use in whining now.

The ground floor looked solid enough, but he couldn’t use it. The windows were boarded up with thick planks. He needed to go up. The upper windows were broken and wide open, giving him the perfect view of the main street and front side of the bakery.

He held his breath while testing the staircase, and didn’t let it out until he passed them without any trouble - the two scared rats didn’t bother him.

The room he found was in the very corner of the building, and he was lucky. It used to be an office of some sort, and dusty desks and chairs would help him to set up a surveillance post.

He gathered everything under the window, cleaned the window sill, and sat sideways. The street lay open before him - and he needed only to peek a little sideways to see the front porch of the bakery.

Perfect. The fun could begin.

 

***

 

Three hours in and he already hated his life and every decision that led him to this miserable place.

The chair he initially chose for himself, with the nice thick stuffing, proved to be a rat’s nest. Or maybe a rat’s playground? Whatever It was, it was busy, crowded, squeaky, and moving.

He had quickly changed his mind and rolled it to the far end of the room, choosing instead to sit on the plain wooden chair.

Every fifteen minutes he walked around the room to keep himself awake and his muscles warmed in case he needed to act fast - but the peak excitement in the past three hours was the passing of a drunk guy who sang to himself as he tottered across the street.

After every walk he had to shove his head into the sleeve of his dress and cough his lungs out, because every move he made disturbed another layer of the blood-red brick dust that covered every damn thing around him.

During the next two hours nothing else moved, and one by one the windows all around went dark.

Yes, he was used to surveillance and knew how to endure the long hours of waiting – but that didn’t mean he liked it.

When - finally! - one of his icons gave a low vibration, he jumped to his feet.

A motion sensor at the back side of the bakery blinked green. 

He hurried down the stairs without any light, positive he remembered at least ninety-nine percent of which steps were safe.

The back alley behind the driveway was still completely dark when he reached it. The factory wall covered it with an impenetrable shadow.

Step by step, he advanced closer to the small lit circle coming from the bakery’s back porch bulb. No wall divided it from the back street, only a line of dumpsters. He stood behind the last one, invisible.

No movement. No sounds.

Shadows around him lay heavy, the layers of darkness unmoving.

Something had triggered that motion sensor.

He practically erased himself by slowing his breathing and melting into the night. Waiting.

Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. He ignored the dust tickling his throat.

Only highly trained professionals would be patient enough not to move if they were here. Those two thugs weren’t that professional. If they had been caught in the sensor, they would probably have already tried to break in the door.

But something had triggered that thing.

After five more minutes, a soft sound, as if a light fabric had touched something plastic, came from the other side of the backyard.

He slowed even his thoughts.

The sound repeated, shadows moved, and... a cat walked into the light.

He stopped the instinctive grumbling in his throat. It was too small to trigger the— nope. The sensor vibrated again when the cat moved.

He waited a couple more minutes, just in case, then withdrew from the dumpsters, back into the complete darkness of the back alley.

At least this broke the monotony a little.

He got several steps closer to the factory when at the far end of the street, a long way behind the factory, a light flickered for a second and died.

If he had been observing from the room, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Not even cameras could catch anything that far.

It reminded him of a car parking, turning the headlights off.

He had to make a choice. He could simply stay where he was, not taking any cover, being just a blacker shadow in the pitch black night. Thugs usually didn’t carry night vision goggles when going to scare some kids. Then he felt the trackers in his pocket and made his decision. He hurried toward the it-might-be-a-car shadow in the distance.

Rats, again. They dashed in all directions while he progressed through the night, but he paid no attention. He kept his gaze at the exact spot he had seen the flash of light, now as dark as everything else. He strained to see if there was any movement.

There was.

Even though his eyes were protesting the strain of trying to catch every change in the nuances of all the different shadows in front of him, he saw something.

Two shadows passed by a small greyish something somewhere in the middle of the alley. Still no sounds. They took a turn and left the alley, leaving him an open way to their car.

They probably were circling around the bakery, trying to find the best way in. It would take some time, but… He had to hurry.

He reached the car in less than a minute, his inner clock counting the seconds. The hood was still warm. No chance to see what make and model it was, what the license plate showed, not even to guess its color.

He felt the tires and reached under the car, attaching the tracker.

Twenty more seconds had passed. The bakery was far behind him. He jumped up and hurried back the same way he came.

He approached the backyard from the opposite side this time, and found his observing place occupied.

It took them two minutes to sneak up on the dumpsters and stand in the same spot behind the last one, just like he did. In this blackness? They must’ve been here before.

“I’ll go first. You wait until I’m inside, check everything again, then join me.” The whisper spread toward him.

“I still think we should go in the front. The front door to their apartment ain’t much better than this glass one here. The lock will give way with one good hit.”

“No. This way we can retreat unseen. Nobody’s out here.”

Eliot took a careful step forward.

One of the shadows did the same, and stepped into the light from the door. The Latino hipster now wore black, and a cap covered his hair. The gun in his hand glistened when the light caught the barrel.

Eliot took one more step.

The Hipster ran toward the door, smashed the glass with the butt of his gun, and reached inside to open it.

Eliot ran forward the same moment.

He could barely see the other guy, still deep behind the dumpster. The thug heard him, probably, because he turned toward him, and the white face gave Eliot a target. 

He grabbed the guy’s head with both hands and smashed it into the dumpster.

The Hipster at the door jerked back, the gun in his hand pointing towards the sudden noise.

Eliot lowered the limp thug to the ground and waved his hand from the darkness, a move urging the Hipster to continue. There was no chance Hipster would be able to see what kind of sleeve he had.

A mere moment of hesitation, then the thug rushed inside and disappeared.

Every second that passed scraped at Eliot’s nerves, but going in immediately after him would be crazy. If he were the thug, he would check, and wait to see if that was really his friend, or if something else had happened.

He could’ve run right into the muzzle of his gun, face first.

He took the gun from the fallen man and ran through the broken door.

A wave of hot air warmed his face as he entered a small corridor full of flour sacks. The door in front of him was open, heat radiating from that main room.

“—he will learn not to fuck with us. This will— stay where you are, bitch, or I’ll—”

Eliot stepped in, slid two steps closer to the man waving his gun at Maria, and said, “Are you Jim or Joe?”

The Hipster twisted like a coiled snake, only stopping when his forehead touched the muzzle of Eliot’s gun.

Eliot knew he could’ve knocked him down without this, but any info he might get this way would be useful. And thugs like this one only understood a gun pointed at them.

Eliot nodded to frozen Maria, then looked back at the thug. “So? Your name?”

“Jim.”

“Nice to meet you, Jim. Now slowly drop your gun on those sacks to the left of you.”

After a moment of hesitation – during which Eliot saw all his frantic mental assessments of possible escapes - he followed the order.

“Thank you. Now turn around and put your hands on that wall behind you.”

He quickly searched him and took a knife from his ankle holster.

Maria, freed from her stupor, moved toward the gun he dropped.

“No. Leave it there and don’t come any closer.”

She froze again mid step, but the bewilderment in her eyes subsided, transforming into plain anger.

“You, Jimmy boy,” Eliot said. “We’ll go out back and collect Joe, and then we’ll have a nice little chat.”

Jim’s back went stiff. “Who are you? You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Leave now and we won’t—”

“My words exactly. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. But you’ll find out. Too late, I’m afraid. Maria, move to the other side of the room and don’t come near while I take him out.”

Eliot moved two steps back, keeping an eye on her, too. “Okay, Jim, walk slowly to the door. I’m right behind you.”

Jim pushed himself against the wall and turned to knock away the gun he thought was still almost touching his head. Instead, his hands hit the empty air, and the force of his turn caused him to spin and smash into the desk of freshly baked trays. 

Donuts and croissants flew all over.

“Are we done?” Eliot said.

Jim regained his balance, fury seeping out his every pore. “Yeah.”

Maria started, “Should I call the pol—”

“No cops. Trust me.” It was too late to explain to her why she shouldn’t call the cops. He should’ve thought about that before, dammit. “I have a better solution in mind.”

She nodded, but her frown wasn’t encouraging.

“Walk.”

This time, Jim obeyed without trying anything stupid.

But this was worth remembering. Working on the street, like this guy did, quickly taught people one lesson: never fight a man with a gun. That was the main reason Eliot took that gun, not because he was going to use it, of course. But that lesson didn’t stick with this guy. He had tried to fight back. Why?

Maybe because he thought he would end up arrested? Definitely would be worth asking Hardison to dig something up, once this night was over.

They took only a few steps into the corridor, when a scream from the outside stopped them both.

“Mom!!”

Arturo’s voice.

Eliot lunged sideways and slammed the butt of the gun into Jim’s head, grabbing him by the collar as he stumbled. He shoved him ahead of him with all his strength, sending him cascading through the corridor and now broken door to land in the dust outside. He followed only a heartbeat later.

Not a second too late.

Arturo waved a baseball bat at the stumbling Joe who tried to grab him before he fell over his own two feet. The kid must’ve heard the broken glass and ran down to help his mother.

“I have your gun, Joe,” he said. “Leave the kid alone.”

Jim was trying to get on his feet, Arturo was still waving his bat around, and Maria burst through the door... things were going downhill too fast. Every second the danger increased. He hadn’t had time to search Joe. If he had a knife as well, with the kid so close...

“Arturo, drop the bat and come here!” Eliot grabbed Maria’s hand when she tried to surge by him and stopped her short.

“Listen to him!” she screamed. “Come here!”

Jim used the commotion to stand up. Eliot kept his head turned to Joe, so Jim could retreat without realizing he let him do it.

Arturo, finally, after one more attempt to hit Joe, ran back to Maria.

Eliot raised the gun and pointed it at Joe. “I’ll count to five. One...”

Both men disappeared into the darkness before he reached three.

 

***

 

He lowered the gun, took out the magazine, and wiped both pieces clean.

It was gonna be interesting explaining all of this.

He turned to Maria and Arturo. She held the kid in a tight embrace, murmuring softly, but her eyes were wide, full of questions, and never left Eliot.

“Take him inside,” he ordered.

Once they went inside, he went out to the alley, waiting in the darkness. 

After a full minute, the headlights at the end of the street turned on when the thugs finally reached their car.

He waited until they drove off, mostly to give Maria some time, rather than the thought they would return, and then he followed her inside.

Arturo helped her collect the scattered cakes. The kid seemed to still be half frightened, but the other half was full blown pride.

Maria, on the other hand... as if the danger was forgotten, she watched the ruined batch with despair.

She would probably have to pay for that, he finally realized. Bakers had a certain amount of flour and everything else, and if numbers in the end didn’t add up... she was in trouble.

Leverage Inc. lived among people, and helped the common folks, but not one of them had the same troubles, same fears. They were too far away from what most people called real life, too far away from people working two or three jobs just to survive.

Clashing with this world left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“How much do you sell, daily?”

“Not much. A couple hundred bucks total. Why?”

“Give me your boss’ number. First thing in morning, I’ll talk to him. We have a special fund to cover fuckups like this one. We’ll cover his losses for tomorrow, because you aren’t working tonight or tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s not safe.”

A click of the oven stopped whatever she was about to say, and instead she opened the oven door to take the next batch out.

He gave her that time, wiping the gun again. Then he went to pick up the gun Jim dropped, but he handled it with a rag, holding it with two fingers. This one wouldn’t get wiped.

He had shoved them both in his jacket pocket when she finished with the oven.

“Look,” she tried.

“Nope. No negotiating. Don’t worry about your boss, I’ll deal with him.”

“I don’t know... I don’t understand. I—”

“When we take a job, when we decide to help someone - we see it through and through. No other way works for us. Of course, if you’d rather finish this by yourself, you are free to. But it wouldn’t be wise.”

“Why not call the cops? You could’ve held them until they came.”

“It’s too dangerous when civilians are involved, especially in the dark with two guns in play.”

“But now they’re gonna do this again,” Arturo said.

“No, they won’t. Do you have that phone they gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Give it to me.” He took the phone, checked it, then put it in the other pocket. “Now leave all this and go up to your apartment. Try to catch at least a few hours of sleep. But text me your boss’ number before you go.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be around.” He smiled at the kid. “Probably eating all these delicious cakes until dawn. Now go on.”

Maria’s eyes, though she didn’t ask anything, were still full of questions.

 

***

 

Eliot waited until the lights in the apartment went out before he called the number Jim gave the kid.

After three rings, he heard the sound of the open line and the soft roar of a car engine. They were still driving.

“Put me on the speaker phone,” he said.

The sounds changed, the roar grew louder.

“It’s in everybody’s best interest to finish this shit,” he said. “I don’t care who are you, or what you do and why. All I want is for you to back off this family. Do you copy?”

“What do you have for us?”

“No cops. I didn’t let her call them. Nobody will know about what happened tonight. I also have your guns. I’ll give them back to you, tomorrow morning at ten, at the same place in the fair where the kids sold their tomatoes.”

“You think we’re stupid?”

“Yes. But that’s not the point. Meet me tomorrow morning and I’ll give you back your guns. Besides, I want to discuss a business matter with you. Not via phone. I can only say it will be worth your time.”

“What kind of a job?”

“A lot of money, in exchange for leaving the kids alone. Everything else you’ll hear tomorrow. I’ll come alone with your guns. No cops, no trap.”

He cut the line and put the phone back in his pocket.

Turning off the light above the back door was his next step. Piling several flour sacks in the now dark and silent backyard followed.

Much better than that dusty hell of a room in the factory.

He sat down, made himself comfortable, and prepared to wait for a dawn.

 

***

 

His phone rang around seven a.m. “Breakfast is ready,” Maria said. “Your friends just arrived.”

“I’m coming up.”

Not only was the breakfast ready - it was already in full swing.

Arturo and Preston, both in super-hero pajamas and looking much younger than they really were, chewed their pancakes at the small dining table.

Hardison had spread his laptop and cables all over the living room coffee table, sharing the space with plates and glasses. Parker stood by the window with a plate in her hands, checking out the street below.

When Eliot arrived, Maria pushed a plate in his hands and hurried back into the kitchen.

“I got everything you sent me,” Hardison said.

“The tracker working?”

Hardison swallowed and cleared his throat. “Like a charm. They are pretty close by. Probably doing their rounds through the neighborhood, checking on the other kids.”

Maria returned with a pitcher full of juice and more glasses. “What would be— Preston, stop playing with your syrup. What would be— Excuse me.” She changed direction and went over to the kids.

Parker tilted her head, watching as Maria negotiated with a still-sleepy Preston. The kid rubbed his eyes while Arturo stole one of his pancakes. Maria refilled their glasses, returned the stolen pancake, confiscated the syrup bottle, then wiped the table - all while Arturo laughed, Preston whined, and she gave a few low warnings.

Eliot didn’t have to elbow Hardison to look at Parker’s face; the hacker was already watching her.

Maria finally left the table and came back over . “I was trying to ask what would be our - your - next move.”

“Do you have any antiseptic here?”

“I have kids, of course I have... wait. For what?” Her eyes raked over him from head to toe, experienced at searching for signs of cuts or bruises. “Were you hurt last night?”

“No. But I will be shortly.” He handed her his plate and nodded his head toward the kitchen. “May I?”

“Of course.”

He searched for a clean white rag, then found an exceptionally sharp knife tucked away in a clean dishwasher.

Arturo and Preston gaped at him. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll need that for my car later.” He put all of it on the couch, took his plate from Maria, and sat there to enjoy his pancakes.

“And to answer your question....” He continued.  “I called Jim and Joe after they left. They’ll meet us at the fair, and we’ll discuss this problem.”

“Discuss?”

“That’s one way of putting it. We’ll deal with it, so don’t worry. And you?”

“I’ll take the kids to school and return here. Maybe I should go to work after—”

“No,” Hardison said. “I spoke to your boss. He will be fully reimbursed for today. We’ll see about tomorrow.”

Maria looked between the three of them, questions again forming in her eyes. Eliot knew what she thought, knew how unreal this situation must’ve been for her. Three strangers having breakfast in her apartment, dealing with her problems, paying for her a day off... and he knew that most people would still wait for some hidden catch.

“There isn’t one, Maria,” he said softly.

“One what?”

“A catch. We’ve done things like this before.” But his words were empty, and he knew it. “In fact, we have our reasons for doing it. It’s our way to pay back some of the not-so-legal things we’ve done before. Also, we’re paying things forward.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. If you meant us any harm, you could have done it already. And you can’t be after any financial gain, cause we’re broke. It’s just...” she stopped, confused. “It’s simply too strange.”

Hardison raised a cheerful eyebrow. “You bet it’s strange! Look at us. No, better... look at him.”

That brought a smile to her face. It was still a little forced, but there were fewer lines creasing her forehead.

“Now, let’s get busy,” Hardison gestured at the three team members. “We’ll discuss our plan, while you prepare the kids for school. Do you want Parker to take... no, on second thought, it’s better if you drive them.”

Eliot moved closer to Hardison so he could peek at his laptop. Half of the screen was a face recognition program searching for Jim and Joe, and the other half was a mess of complicated code.

Hardison quickly hid the code and pulled up some cameras following the car with the tracker on it. The THRU Inc. building security code was clearly still an impenetrable fortress for him.

Eliot glanced sideways at Hardison. Yep. He probably hadn’t slept a single minute last night. His eyes were bloodshot and wide open, jumping from one thing to another too fast to focus. Living on coffee and sugar wasn’t the wisest thing Hardison had ever done, all they could do is hope that damn building would soon surrender.

Maria sent the kids to get ready before leaving the room herself so they could talk freely. But nobody said a word until the Rodrigues family returned, ready to go.

“Before you go, Arturo...” Eliot said. “I will need the package they gave you.”

Arturo ran back to his room and brought out a small package, wrapped in a paper bag. “There’s a paper with instructions inside.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“Will you be here when I get back?” Maria asked.

“Probably. If not, we’ll lock the door behind us. We’ll be in touch.”

Eliot waited until he heard the car driving away, then opened the package. “This looks like uncut heroin. Not good.”

“Why’s that?” Hardison said. “What’s the difference - cut or uncut?”

“Uncut heroin comes directly from a cartel, fresh from across the border.”

“Who would give a twelve year old so much of the drug? That’s thousands of dollars worth.”

“It’s a simple mule business. The kids wouldn’t risk getting caught, while blackmailed with their family’s lives, and the instructions...” Eliot checked the small paper on the package. “are printed, so no graphologists could compare it with anything. No names either - only a box number at the Main station, and a key. The kids don’t see their connection, so they can’t tell anything.”

“It’s not only that.” Parker said. “They don’t know how much it’s worth. Someone older would guess and might be tempted to disappear with a package. These young kids wouldn’t think of that.”

“And nobody suspects twelve-year olds to be carrying heroin with them, so they can slip through anything, even police ambushes.”

“Not around here. But in South America it’s pretty common.”

“Mexico, Colombia, Chile?”

“Among others. Do you need anything else before we go to the fair?”

“We have enough time before it opens, so we can go to the Main Station and see if I can put a camera near that box.”

“Good idea.”

“Do you know how long we’ll be occupied with Jim and Joe? We mustn’t forget that Ursula is coming back to the fair today, because of the rabbit for her grandson. It would be ideal if we could finish with them, mingle around, then wait for her - all in one go.”

“Yeah. That would be great. But I can’t tell how much time we’ll need for those guys. We’ll see when the action starts.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“Oh, one more thing.” Eliot took the knife and tested its sharpness on his thumb. An excellent blade. “You go to the car, I’ll catch up.”

 

***

 

“We’ve done a lot of illegal things,” Hardison said. “But I’ve never been so nervous as now, driving around with a package of heroin in the back seat.”

“Relax,” Eliot said. “And keep up. It’s still early morning, so there’s a chance we’ll find two parking spots free.” He entered the big parking lot for the Fair, scanning the rows of cars.

They were lucky. Only two rows from the main entrance to the Fair, he found two spots free, side by side. 

“Exactly what we needed,” Hardison said.

And right on time, too. By the time they parked and walked around to check the exits, the parking lot had filled up, and at least ten cars made rounds waiting to slip in if some car happened to leave.

They gathered again by the cars, with Hardison typing on the laptop placed on the hood.

“Where are they?”

Hardison checked the screen. “Just headed our way. Clearly planning to come early and check for traps. They’ll be here in fifteen minutes, so you should have enough time to prepare everything.”

Eliot bit back a warning. Hardison didn’t need his advice. He knew they both had to clear out, and time their leaving at the exact time of Jim and Joe’s arrival.

Eliot tapped his earbud to check it. “I’ll let you know if something happens.”

He walked through the main entrance, directly into the center dome.

What a shame they came here to work. It was Monday, so significantly less people were around than yesterday, and it was perfect time to check everything without the pushing or standing in lines. The Epoxy booth had several new exhibits - a table and two chairs, transparent plastic filled with golden brown pine cones.

He resisted the urge to enter and check what else they had new, but allowed himself to stand in front of it for a moment. 

Yesterday’s booths had moved and new ones appeared, but the booth with cages and rabbits still stood in the same spot, directly across from the Epoxy exhibition. Ursula would visit it some time today, so this camera would prove useful twice.

He walked around the clearing between the epoxy and rabbits booths, and found the perfect spot for the camera - a column holding a small porch was facing directly at the rabbits and the place where Arturo and Preston had their tomato barrels yesterday.

He connected it to his phone and checked the coverage. Yep. Jim and Joe would come here, then Ursula later. They could have them all in the same recording.

“They’re almost here,” Hardison warned through his earbud. “Entering the parking lot.”

“Are you in the car?”

“Yes. ready and waiting.”

Time for him to move away. He returned to the entrance, where the huge opening in the dome had bamboo on both sides. He could watch the parking lot without risking being spotted.

“Here we go...” Hardison sang. “They are cruising... cruising... aaaaaand. Now.”

Hardison turned the engine on and moved a couple of inches in reverse so the incoming blue Jeep could see they were leaving.

So that was their car. Last night in the alley it had been just a big dark mass.

Naturally, Jeep’s driver quickly stopped and waited for Hardison to leave, happy to park in his place.

Smooth and natural. Eliot grinned, watching Jim and Joe park right beside his own car.

Hardison and Parker drove away. They would find another place to park and return here. If their luck held, it would be something close to the entrance, maybe if they cruised around long enough.

Eliot left his bamboo hideout and entered into the second dome on the left, leaving Jim and Joe to thoroughly search their meeting place.

He walked around, occasionally checking the camera.

This dome had a green roof, so the light wasn’t golden like in the first one, but almost all the booths in this one sold various plants and all the nuances of green intensified and glistened like an Amazon forest on a sunny day. He strolled from booth to booth, each time convincing himself that he shouldn’t burden himself with seedlings, soil mixtures, or seeds. At least, not until they’d finished with their job.

When he found himself at a Texas mountain laurel booth, he almost capitulated. It was brimming with small plants, two-year old trees, and one that stood higher than him; the mature one was perfectly trimmed and in full bloom, covered with thousands of enchanting light purple flowers. Yet, Hardison’s voice saved him from eventually chasing their targets with a backpack full of plants.

“We’re back at the Jeep,” Hardison informed him. “Parker’s working on the lock, but it goes slowly. She has to stop whenever people pass by, and even passing cars are problematic.”

“Take your time.” Eliot turned his back to the trees and checked the camera. “J&J checked everything, and right now they’re standing on the outer edge of the camera range, monitoring the middle of the golden dome while sipping coffee.”

“Good. Where are you?”

“In the green dome. Going back soon. Why?”

“I think Parker needs a minute or two more, and then we can...” Hardison trailed off. “Nope. She’s done. Were all set.”

“Transmitter set?”

“Set and working.”

“I’ll return to the golden dome entrance, to my bamboo post. I can see you from there, though not many details.”

“Do that. We’re starting our casual walk near their Jeep until someone walks by.”

Eliot went around the perimeter of the dome to avoid the middle passage and their meeting place with Jim and Joe. It took him two minutes to regain his position. “I’m in.”

“Right on time. We have the first people approaching. I connected the transmitter to your phone and the line is open. Your earbud is on a separate channel so you can talk to us. We can talk, but we won’t be able to make any sounds from... now.”

Hardison and Parker were at least three hundred feet away from him so he couldn’t hear them, but Eliot watched the entire scene, including the middle aged couple who walked toward them.

He took out his phone, checked the camera once more, and prepared for the show.

Even this far away their body language was perfect. Parker stood, shifting from leg to leg, as if not sure if she should stay or she should run away. 

Hardison hurried to the pair, arms spread in confusion and alarm. “Excuse me, excuse me... would you be so kind as to help me prove my girlfriend imagines things?”

Of course, the people stepped back from him. “No, thanks... we’re in hurry.”

“But she says she hears something from that car! I didn’t hear anything and now she won’t move and wants me to call the cops. Please?”

It was the “calling the cops” part of it that did the trick. The pair looked at each other, a little more relaxed.

Hardison pressed further. “Look, we were on our way to buy her a rabbit, when she jumped away from this Jeep and screamed. She said something was knocking inside the trunk. If you could only listen for a second...”

The woman nudged her husband, but he dug in his heels and crossed his arms. “Is this a hidden camera show?”

Eliot grinned. The guy had no idea how right he was.

“No!” Hardison said, then lowered his voice. “I’m with you on this one, but she won’t move...”

“I heard it!” Parker said. “It was like something clicked something inside of the—”

Eliot raised his phone to the door frame and knocked his car keys against the wooden frame to make several clicks.

All four people by the Jeep jumped back when the transmitter carried that sound.

“You see!” Parker’s voice went into a high pitch. “I’m not imagining things!”

That synchronized jumping drew the attention of three more people who were passing by. Two of them stopped and watched from a distance, while one came closer.

“Maybe it’s an engine,” the woman said with hesitation. “When it cools down, it makes sounds. I think. I don’t know.”

“We should call the cops.”

“And tell them what?” the husband said. “A Jeep clicked twice?”

Eliot brought the phone to the frame and scratched at it.

“This is different,” a new voice said, somewhere from the left, from a new group of people who stopped by. “Definitely not a clicking engine.”

A group of teenagers joined them, and then a family with two kids.

“Maybe it’s a cat?”

Eliot clicked again. Then again.

“Maybe we should open it?” somebody said.

That wasn’t good. Hardison quickly reacted. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that. I once saw a movie with a victim in a trunk like this one... but there was a bomb attached to the lock and... boom. Wasn’t pretty.” 

The guy took two quick steps back into the gathering crowd.

Hardison also moved away, so for a couple of minutes Eliot couldn’t hear what people were saying, just the murmur of many voices.

“Hardison?”

“Oh my. This is not good. No, mama, not good at all.”

“What?”

“Ursula is here. She just drove by the Jeep. Good thing it’s so crowded right now. Maybe she will drive away if she doesn’t find a free place to park.”

They definitely didn’t need that sort of complication right now, not before they were done with Jim and Joe. The possibility of something going wrong just increased substantially. If she parked her car, she would go to the rabbits, directly in the middle of their action.

“Stay calm and keep an eye on her car.” Eliot said.

“No, she isn’t going to... damn it, she stopped.  She’s getting out of the car, coming to see what’s going on. Maybe we should abort...”

“No,” Parker said. “This is perfect. We can do both things now.”

Hardison sighed. “Parker, we can’t play ‘grab her purse’ again. We have to think of something different, and we haven’t had time for that yet, being occupied with the kids and those two—”

She turned to Hardison. “Do you trust me?”

“Always. But—”

She turned her head toward the dome. “Eliot?”

Dammit. Parker’s weirdness was sometimes terrifying, but when a job was in question... no, scratch that. Even when they did the most serious jobs, she was weird - but she always did her part.

“Yeah. I trust you. What do you have in mind?”

“You’ll see. Just follow my lead. Hardison, you’ll know what to do.”

The crowd around the Jeep - none too close and mostly hiding behind other cars - continued to argue about the possible reasons for strange clicking noises, and it wasn’t easy to see everything. Eliot left his bamboo cover and moved sideways, keeping the same distance. 

Now he could see both Parker and Hardison.

Parker intercepted Ursula and just stood there for a moment. Eliot knew why. If there was any spark of recognition on Ursula’s face, Parker would simply pass by her and forget about her plan. But she stayed.

“Ma’am, would you be so kind as to call 911? Those people—” Parker waved her hand at the crowd behind her back, “—heard some sounds in the trunk of that Jeep, but they don’t want to call the cops.”

“Sounds?” Ursula glanced at the Jeep. “I wouldn’t call 911 for sounds, dear. There are many logical explanations for—”

Eliot put the phone closer to his mouth and whispered, “Heeeelp.”

Ursula’s gasp through Parker’s earbud sounded louder than his whisper. The crowd dispersed in distress, people flailing around, helplessly arguing. Ursula grabbed her purse and pulled her phone out. The black phone without a mask, her private one.

“911? I’m at the Eco-Bio World Fair, in a parking lot, and there’s someone locked in a car trunk! Please send someone! Hurry!”

She listened to the response. Eliot checked his camera.

Now they had to hurry. Timing was everything. He needed to hear only one thing...

“Ask them how long it will take them to arrive!” Parker said as if reading his mind. “They might need oxygen!”

“Yes, yes,” Ursula quickly said. “We heard a voice. I don’t think they breathe in there. Should we open it or? Oh… okay.”

Hardison took two giant steps and almost bumped into Parker and Ursula. “Someone is inside?” His voice sounded horrified. “OMG, and I can’t find my daughter! How long... OMG. My battery is dead. Please, can I have your phone? I just have to see if she’s alright!”

“I don’t have a phone,” Parker said.

“I can’t hang up now…” Ursula started. “No, wasn’t talking to you, it’s a man who lost his daughter... Yes, I’m willing to wait here for your officers, yes. Wait...” She lowered the phone, reached into her jacket and pulled another phone out. “Here, call her. I have to explain where we are exactly.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Hardison grabbed her phone and stepped back, frantically typing.

Parker moved closer to Ursula, blocking her view of Hardison. “What are they saying?” she quickly asked. “I would open the trunk. Ask them what to do!”

“No. We should move away and wait for the cops. They sent a patrol they have here at the fair. They should be here in four minutes.”

Yes. Perfect. Eliot cut the connection with the transmitter and dialed Jim’s number.

“Hey Jim,” he said. “We have a little problem. Are you there yet?”

“Of course not. What’s the problem?”

“I just arrived at the fair, and I’m approaching the meeting place from the back, from the green dome. Something’s happening. I see a lot of cops.” 

“You fucking bastard! You set us up, you—”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve told you I need you for a job. Why would I set you up? What’s in it for me?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t care whether you trust me or not. But why would I set you up and then call you to warn you about the cops? Don’t be an idiot, or I’ll cancel everything and find someone with more brains.”

“You better hope that job is worth it, or—”

“Look, those cops are searching for something. You said you’re not there yet. Even if you’re near, approaching that big parking lot in front, you’ll be okay. That part is still clear.”

Eliot quickly moved the phone to check the camera. Jim and Joe looked distraught, glancing back over their shoulders as they hurried toward the exit and their car.

“I have to go,” he said. “I’ll call you later to arrange the second meeting.”

He cut the line and watched them until they were out of camera range.

“ETA two minutes,” he said in his earbud.

“Got it,” Hardison said. “We’re on our way.”

“Did you reach your daughter?” Ursula turned to Hardison. “Everything is okay?”

He gave her the phone back. “Oh yes. She’s fine. Thank you so much.” Though he couldn’t see his face, Eliot heard the lazy smile in his words.

“No problem.” Ursula put both phones away. Hardison grabbed her hand and shook it, then walked away. He stopped behind the second car, close enough to see the entire crowd.

“I think you just saved that victim’s life,” Parker said to Ursula. “The cops will come in time.” With that, she ran closer to the Jeep. “Maybe we can see if there’s a bomb!” she yelled over her shoulder. “That will help the cops.”

She didn’t even wait a second - she dove under the Jeep.

Eliot had enough time for one more _Heeelp_ before she removed the transmitter and stood up, dusting her shirt.

“Nothing,” she said. “In movies the bombs are usually under the car, and there’s nothing there.”

Excited talking broke out all at the same time, and she used that to mingle among them, retreating until she reached Hardison.

“Did you get it?” Eliot said.

“Her business phone?” Hardison said. “Hell yes. The next time she uses it, I will have complete control of all her calls, data, and messages. You should come out here. I see Jim and Joe hurrying this way, and there’s still no police in sight.”

“I can be there in a minute, if needed,” Eliot said. “But I don’t think there will be a need for me. Just watch.”

Jim was the first to push through the crowd. “What’s going on here? Would you please move away? You’re blocking my car.”

Suddenly all hell broke loose.

“Ouch, ouch,” Hardison chirped. The crowd, yelling and threatening, surrounded them, stopping them from leaving. “I hope the cops come soon, or we’ll have to save them from a lynching.”

It was safe enough for Eliot to come closer and take up a spot behind the crowd surrounding the Jeep. There was no chance Jim and Joe could see him, too busy with arguing, yelling, and defending themselves. Even Ursula joined the circle around them.

The cops arrived at the right moment.

“They are the owners! They are the owners! They put the man in the trunk!” Hardison directed the cops, pointing at Jim and Joe.

“For the hundredth time - there is no man in that trunk! You’re all crazy!”

One cop came over to Jim, his hand on his gun. “Sir, would you please open it?” The other cops moved the people away.

“We need popcorn,” Hardison whispered.

“Of course, officer.” Jim pressed his remote and opened the trunk for the cop. “See? Nothing ins—” He looked down and shut up.

Eliot was now close enough to see his face turning green.

The cop pulled out his gun. “On the ground, face down! Both of you! Spread your arms.” He spoke into his radio mic, the button clicking when he pressed it. “Officers need backup and forensics. Two suspects detained. There’s no hostage in the car, but we found two guns, a package containing a white powdery substance we believe to be drugs probably containing drugs, and a bloodied rag. Yes, right now.”

They waited until the cops took Jim and Joe away, then cleared out.

 

***

 

Eliot drove behind the other two, but the earbuds were still connected and all he could hear was their happy chatting. When he had enough of Hardison’s babbling, he took it out before dialing Maria’s phone.

“I have good news and good news,” he said.

“Oh? Your deal with them went…well?”

“Sort of, yes. They’ve been arrested for possession of drugs and guns. I can’t tell you how it will end, but there’s a pretty good chance they might be put away for a long time. Tell the kids. And tell them to learn something from this.”

“I can’t believe it. I don’t know what to say. I’m simply—”

“Hey. This was fun. Nothing more. I didn’t have time to see your seedlings, though, so I’ll drop by this afternoon and buy some, if that’s okay with you. Preferably when kids aren’t in school, so I can see what they think about this.”

“That’ll be great. And thank you again.”

He ended the call with the nice feeling of a job well done. Today was a good day.

Better than good, in fact.

Hardison would start working on Ursula’s phone the moment they get back home, and that should take them one step closer to finishing the job with her boss and THRU Inc. Eliot only hoped that would give the hacker a boost to his confidence that would equal his disastrous hacking failure. Though, he had to admit, the suffering of Hardison’s ego was fun to watch.

And if Ursula was anything like the usual employees, she might even have passwords to that impenetrable building somewhere in her phone.

Great day, indeed.

He put away his phone and pressed the gas pedal.

 

***

 

“The news of your endeavor precedes you,” Nate said when they burst through the door.

He had a local news report playing on the big screen covering the wall. 

_“...in addition to the drug charges, police are investigating their connection to the recent murder of a young mother. According to an anonymous source, their guns will be tested and a ballistics report might prove…”_

Nate turned off the news.

“An anonymous source?” Eliot asked. “You did that last touch?”

“They would test the guns anyway. This is just pointing them in the right direction to speed that process up.”

Hardison threw his bags on the chair and raised his phone. “And we have a bonus. I have Ursula’s contacts, text messages, emails, and call records. And while we’re speeding up the processes... while I work on that, you can take her email correspondences and see what you can dig up. It might prove even more important than phone calls.”

Perfect. Those two would be buried for who knew how many hours. Eliot had nothing to do right now. And neither did Parker.

“How about I take Parker with me and we go get my seedlings, and see if the kids learned their lesson? If that’s okay with you, Parker.”

She just shrugged.

 

***

 

They were less than a minute from the bakery when a wailing ambulance passed by them.

It was nothing, Eliot said to himself. A coincidence. It was a huge neighborhood.

He felt Parker’s gaze on him, but he held the wheel harder and resisted the urge to speed up.

The huge fire truck was the first thing they saw when he rounded the corner and turned onto the street.

His heart almost skipped a beat and he couldn’t breathe for those long, long seconds it took for him to park as close to the bakery as he could.

Red dust on the street wasn’t red anymore, but the dirty grey of falling ash.

Smoke still filled the air. It tasted acrid in his throat when he stepped out of the car and took the first breath. Parker followed him. Her steps, reluctant, slow, stopped only three feet from the car.

He wanted he could’ve done the same - stop there, or even get back into the car and drive away.

But he couldn’t. “Stay there,” he said to Parker and forced himself to continue.

Then he saw Maria among the firefighters, and a knot squeezed around his throat cleared a little bit.

She sat wrapped in a blanket, but she raised her head as if sensing his approach.

“Kids?” he said.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks, smudging the ash all over her face. “Still in school.”

“What happened?”

“Somebody threw a gasoline can all over the roof, at my vegetable garden. I don’t know how...”

Oh, he knew. The room he found last night was the perfect spot. He even cleared the rubble for them. All they had to do was go to the window and swing.

“...but I know why. And you know, too.”

The flat, even tone of her voice wasn’t accusing. She was just stating the facts.

He looked up, above the bakery. One window to her apartment was a black hole, fire painting intricate patterns around it, black on white.

She followed his gaze. “The fire spread through the ceiling door. Somebody saw smoke when it was just a roof burning, so firefighters came in time to save half of the apartment.”

Half of everything they had, gone. And they had little. Everything she grew on the roof, gone. Her job, most likely lost.

And now that Jim and Joe were in custody, they had very little chance of finding out who they were working with.

“We have to pick up her kids from their school,” he said to the nearest firefighter. “How long will you be here?”

“At least an hour,” the guy said. “We soaked everything but we’re still not sure we eliminated all possible sources.”

“Thank you.”

“And what then?” Now the pain bled into her voice.

“Then we’ll go inside and collect everything that’s worth saving - before we take you somewhere safe.” He didn’t try to smile. And when he tried to say: trust me, he almost choked on the words. No, she trusted him once. And he failed her.

“We’ll arrange your moving,” he went on. “Parker, go get the kids and then stay with them here, will you?”

“Sure,” she said. “Where are you going?”

“To talk with Nate.”

 

***

 

Hardison left everything he was working on and hurried to help Parker organize the moving.

Eliot would normally comment on the long tirade of curses Hardison grumbled while arranging a delivery service, but right now he had other things on his mind.

Nate listened to his report without any comment. And boy, did he know how to listen. Being on the receiving end of Nate’s full attention was always a little creepy - even when he was reporting actions done well, but now? Now, when he felt his every sentence ended with a grumbling plea for help and advice? Unsurvivable.

He forced himself to keep to the facts and subside his guilt. 

Nate wasn’t fooled, of course.

“...and Parker will help them with the packing, then bring them here for now,” he finished his report.

Silence lasted almost a minute while Nate thought.

“You couldn’t know,” Nate finally said. “Everything she told you indicated only those two guys, and no one else. Two guys probably killing the mother of a teenager who refused to work with them, the same two guys burning the car, the same two guys approaching all the other kids...”

“Maybe I couldn’t. But I should’ve at least suspected. I took this too lightly, as a side job for one afternoon, and now they’re paying for that.”

Nate steepled his fingers and gave him a long look over the table.

“What?”

“A wise woman once said: If there are no credits rolling across the screen, then it isn’t the end yet.”

“But we can’t find the others who work with Jim and Joe.”

“Yet.”

“If I didn’t rush calling the police, if I played with the two of them first, offering some kind of a job, maybe they would’ve revealed that they worked with someone.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

He said nothing to that.

“Okay,” Nate said. “First things first, take care of the family. After that, we’ll think of how to get the others.”

“You have something in mind?”

“No. I never have ‘something’ in mind. I usually have solutions. Though, I hoped I would use this for something related to our more important cases.” Nate pulled out his phone and raised his finger to his lips. _Keep quiet_.

“Hi Frank,” Nate said. “You still got that distasteful mansion up in the hills?”

He listened to the reply with a smile. “And do you have a vegetable garden there? No? What a shame.” His smile grew into a smirk. “Now you have.”

 

***

 

The van driver honked, ready to go.

“Don’t worry.” Nate knew how to sound reassuring when he needed to. He looked at Maria almost gently. “My friend is delighted to have you there. He searched for someone who could make him a proper vegetable garden for months, and he can’t wait for you to start. He is already rearranging his guest house for your family. Also, he will take care of all the paperwork needed for the kids to start at the nearest school as soon as possible.” 

Maria stared at the paper in her hands, unable to say a word.

“And I checked to see who works for him in mansion security,” Eliot added. “It happens I know two guys there. I’ve already talked to them about you and the kids. You’ll be under constant supervision. You two,” Eliot turned to the kids standing by a van with their things, “Take care of your mom, and help her. You have my number. Call if you need anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” they both sang.

“I don’t know what to say,” Maria said.

Nate put on his most charming smile. “Me neither. You’re doing a great favor to my friend. We’ll both be in your debt.”

“What? That’s—”

“The facts. I couldn’t believe how lucky we are, and how providence worked in our favor. Imagine those odds - a man with a childhood wish for a vegetable garden, and a woman who grew one, finally get to meet because my friends,” Nate waved his hands at them, “went to visit a fair and met your kids. I call it a good omen. Don’t spoil it.”

Maria’s smile was slightly bewildered, but she didn’t have a chance. The man who could sell an umbrella to a snake used his siren’s song with genuine warmth this time.

They packed them into the van, gave instructions to the driver, and waved until the van disappeared.

Eliot looked at Nate’s still warm smile. “What if—”

“He knows the exact amount of delight he has to emanate every time he speaks with her about that garden,” Nate said.

“But her—”

“—salary isn’t the highest she would have as a world famous professional in the, erm, vegetable business, yet it will be close enough because he will also pay her to live in that guest house. He is away almost ten months a year.”

“Smart ass.” Eliot grumbled at him.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Nate’s grin grew wider. “And now, since we took care of our first and most important problem...”

“We can go hunt those other bastards,” Eliot finished.

Oh yes. No matter how many of them were, whether they were a gang, or a cartel, or an army... they would stop them.

Because, saving one family felt good. But saving the others who were in the same danger was... the right thing to do.

 

 

THE END

 

 


End file.
